


To Love a Crow

by vesta02



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Early Relationship, F/M, Love, Mabari, Romance, prompted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7183466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesta02/pseuds/vesta02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorts and one-shots featuring Liane Tabris and her love for the Antivan Crow Zevran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Love a Crow

Her boots were missing.

Liane felt panic constrict her chest, settling over her like a weight the moment she noticed they were gone. She kept everything in order when she unpacked her tent; it was a force of habit, keeping everything tucked away neatly so she could find them quickly if she needed to. She recalled distinctly a night only a week back when she’d been quicker to respond to a pack of darkspawn just outside the ring of safety their campfire provided. She liked staying organized for that sake alone.

She scrambled on her hands and knees, reaching for her pack. Her clothes were all there but a quick glance told her that her leathers were missing along with daggers she’d recently acquired in Orzammar. But the thing that threw her over the edge was when she realized Nelaros’s ring was gone. 

Anger flooded her system as Liane tried to breathe steadily, shoving her arms forcefully through the sleeves of a clean tunic, wiggling into breeches just as quickly. There was only one person who would have taken these items and Liane found herself cursing under her breath as she exited her tent. Cool, dewy morning air greeted her as she stepped barefoot into the grass, scanning irritably for Zevran. Everything was quiet though, most of their companions still abed at this early hour. 

It took a moment as she let out a long, unsteady breath, listening very carefully. And then, off to her right, she heard a low  _ bark _ . 

Perhaps she’d been a fool, she thought, stalking towards the woods. After all, she’d been the one to invite an Antivan Crow into her bed. Alistair had been wary of allowing Zevran to travel with them and even with his particularly useful skill with a blade he was far too charming to simply take at face value. But cautious, careful Liane had decided that he was the solution to her constant loneliness and the ache that had settled in her chest following the visions at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Foolish, she thought, running her fingers through her dark brown hair, an absolutely stupid mistake that she wouldn’t make after this. If that was him in the woods and he hadn’t already made off with all of her stuff by now.

But  _ Maker _ he was so very talented in bed. 

Despite herself, she’d continually invited him back to her tent night after night. But the thing that surprised Liane most of all was that it had become more than just sex. He told wild stories that made her laugh, listened to her when she needed to vent, offered companionship when she was up for first watch. 

He’d become a friend and that complicated everything their casual relationship was supposed to be about.

Her footfalls slowed, grateful to have the element of surprise with bare feet as the canine snuffing and gentle rippling of water reached her ears. What surprised her, though, was the low, accented tone that seemed to be keeping conversation. She heard him before she saw him, weaving through the trees, frowning more and more as she steadily grew closer.

“Ah yes, good point, my fluffy friend, I  _ did _ miss a spot there.”

Liane found herself rooted to the spot, eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. 

Seated by the stream, his back to her, Zevran’s face was tilted to Sorcha, who rested dutifully at his side. Liane stayed close to the tree line, slowing her breathing as she remained quietly hidden from sight. Shirtless (and  _ Maker _ she could appreciate the hard planes of his bare back from where she stood), he held a small cloth in one hand, the other hidden from sight. What surprised her most, though, was what surrounded him. She could pick out her boots among the pile of items just to the side along with her daggers, the shirt he had presumably taken off along with her leathers. They were laid out, drying in the grass, free from blood stains she’d sworn she’d get out sooner or later and all accounted for.

“No, no,” Zevran was laughing as Sorcha tried to reach for whatever Zevran was cleaning in his hands, “the puppy should definitely  _ not  _ eat the ring. Have you tried to pass something made from...what, probably solid steel?” Soracha gave a wuff in response and Zevran snorted. “I can tell you, my furry friend, it is a little painful and not worth it in the long run. I could tell you about a time when I had to swallow  _ two  _ rings to keep them from being stolen back.”

Liane tried to keep quiet, ducking her head as a soft huff escaped her lips in place of a laugh.

Sorcha was a captive audience as Zevran shifted, rubbing the presumably wet cloth along his hidden hand. “I’m sure you have experience, but you are not allowed to eat this ring. It would be very embarrassing to have our fearless leader find out I let her faithful hound eat it. Especially since I know she’s listening right now.”

Liane felt her whole face flushed, a rush of heat and embarrassment at being caught from the tree line catching her off-guard. Hadn’t she been quiet enough? They had only just begun their lessons in the way of the assassin but Liane thought she was getting  _ better _ . She groaned under her breath, resting her cheek against the tree nearest her. “When did you notice I was here?” 

“You probably shouldn’t almost laugh at stories when you’re spying on a fellow assassin,” Zevran threw a look over his shoulder. He was so smug about it but, he added after a moment, “Though you were doing fine until then.”

Grumbling and huffing under her breath, Liane stepped out from the trees. She hated being caught, even more so by Zevran, but she could accept her lack of sneaking with a little grace as she joined him and Sorcha by the water. Her mabari gave a low huff of excitement, licking her hand when she extended it to give him a loving scratch behind his ear. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Ah yes,” Zevran had gone back to rubbing something in his hand, “he decided to join me down here. I think he was making sure I didn’t run off with anything.”

“Were you going to?” No nonsense and to the point, Liane had yet to shake the paranoia that hadn’t left her since she woke up alone.

“You wound me,” Zevran tilted his head, offering a teasing smile, but he paused his movements. The final piece, the most important piece, sat in his palm. The ring Liane kept on her middle finger (it didn’t fit the others) and only took off at night. It was her reminder, the weight of all that had happened and the last piece of home and the hopes she had once had for a normal life. She hesitated but he held it out for her when she didn’t reach for it. Her fingers brushed against his palm, carefully slipping it back into place on her left hand where it belonged.

“You…” Liane didn’t have words, uncertain why he had done all of this. Was he looking to earn good favor? Was there something he wanted in return? Liane, who had opened her heart to so much, felt guarded in the moment.

“I had some things to clean and you did too,” He shrugged his shoulders, as though it were nothing. “I was awake and now we can travel sooner.”

Liane was quiet, staring at her ring before glancing back to him again. “You did all this for me?”  
  
Zevran shifted, one hand cupping her cheek tenderly. “Yes.” 


End file.
